Wednesday, September 9, 2015

The First of Our Family's Dirty Little Secrets Part 2

Part 1 In case you have not read it or would like a refresher.

My grandfather and I got very close.  He started meeting me by a corner store on my way home. He would buy me candy and tell me not to tell because everyone would get mad and make me share. After a few days he started showing me where to hide his part of the candy so no one would find it. Then one day he gave me a bottle of juice for him and said he didn't want candy anymore. The juice made my bag heavy so he would carry it part way. His juice smelled icky I remember. He said it was because it was adult juice.

That is when he started to be mean and make my dad really mad. He would call my grandmother and my mother names. I felt so sad because I loved them all. He didn't say those things to my mother only my father. My grandfather had several police men as friends. They would give him rides home, sometimes he was mean to them too. Eventually, what must have been months later, my mom and dad told all of us kids to play outside one day because they needed to talk to my grandfather by themselves. I stood on the outside of the huge double windows in the kitchen and heard my dad tell my grandpa it was time for him to move out and get a room of his own. I started screaming that this was not fair. He didn't do anything wrong. He was so nice to me, he was my grandpa. My dad got real quiet and my mom cried. I had never seen her cry before in all my nine years. What was happening, my grandpa had to move, my mom was crying and my father was doing nothing, just nothing.

When I awoke the next morning my grandfather was still there drinking a cup of coffee. He asked my mother if he could walk me to school, he didn't just get up and leave with me like before. My mother said yes and off we went. On the way he explained that I should not be mad at my mom or dad because they found his juice under the cupboard and were angry. Also that he had been being mean to everyone because he didn't feel good and that it made my dad afraid when he was mean. That my mom didn't like him being there when he was to funny because she thought he would get mean again. This time they gave him another chance so he had to do things right. I can't say that I understood, although I was happy he was staying and he promised he wouldn't be mean anymore.

We didn't see my grandmother for a very long time and she didn't call to talk to us either. I really missed our trips to go visit her and my other grandpa. I later learned it was because my parents took my grandpa in when he started going to meetings, now I think they were AA meetings.

For a few days or weeks everything was ok at my house. Grandpa slept a lot and went for walks all day, come and go. He was quiet but not angry or mean. I knew everything would get better.

Soon enough grandpa started buying juice again only he asked me to hide it in a very safe place in my room because if I didn't he would have to leave, an alcoholics deceitful way of getting people to do things for them I now know. It became quite often. My mom had started putting my pressed dresses in my closet not on the rack where they had been. She sat down on my bed one day and asked if my, well Jessi she called him, had been mean to me and I was very honest no, he had not been. Not to me, (but almost everyone else in the house.) I told her how nice he was always except on Monday Nights. My mother had "club" on Monday night. It was suppose to be to lose weight but she always brought goodies home for us, made me wonder. I told her he is mean to daddy when you go to club, he tells him mean things and dad just says nothing. Grandpa's juice was missing from my drawer that night and he was very angry. I told him I put it under my sweaters just like I promised.

The next day after school he didn't meet me part way. I watched for him all the way. Maybe he was sick again. I was right, he was sick in the back yard by the swing set behind the garage. He picked tall grass and stuff from beside the garage to cover it, I thought I was sick too but I wasn't. Strange how everything looked so innocent to me then. I mean I knew things were not right but I knew nothing of alcoholism, addiction or the monster it could be. Things got worse and my mom and dad made him leave. He moved to his own place I was told, where he could do what he wanted to do without hurting anyone. He hadn't hurt anyone I whined. He didn't hit nobody. Of course I didn't know anything of verbal or emotional abuse back then.



  1. You are a wonderful story teller, and I would purchase this as a book if you were to write one.

    1. Thank-you for your kind words! I only wish I could write well enough.